


not fair

by honeymoonmuke



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Love Confessions, M/M, Sad, and minho is there for him, platonic thominho, thomas is grieving, today on Hannah does AO3: she still can't figure out what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymoonmuke/pseuds/honeymoonmuke
Summary: When Thomas finds it hard to keep going, Minho is there to keep him safe.





	not fair

Thomas gasps, sitting straight up. His heart is pounding, breath coming out in gasps. With a shaking hand, he reaches up to grab his hair, tugging in the hope of anchoring him in the present.

As he blinks, he tries to calm himself down. _It isn’t real._

“Thomas?”

A quiet voice causes him to startle. Thomas looks to his left and sees Minho, blinking blearily from his bed. “Are you okay?” His friend asks, looking over at him, concern written across his tired face.

Thomas shivers, clearing his throat. It doesn’t help to rid himself of the lump lodged in the back of it. “Yeah- Yeah, sorry, Minho. Did I wake you up?”

A few weeks into their stay at the Safe Haven, Thomas and his best friend had been moved into a cabin a little away from the others. The official reasoning behind this was because they needed privacy, but both of them knew it was because it irritated the others to be woken every night by one of them screaming himself awake.

“No,” Minho mumbles. He sits up and takes a sip of water, the movement only visible due to a beam of moonlight working its way through their hut. “I was already awake.”

Thomas hums, running his slim fingers over his left arm. He scratches at the skin, trying desperately to forget the images burned into the back of his mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minho asks, after a little while. He’s sitting up now, his back pressed against the wooden slacks and knees pulled to his chest. With his hair all over the place, he looks smaller than Thomas has ever seen him.

Thomas hesitates, weighing out the pros and cons. A week ago he’d have declined, claiming he didn’t want to drag Minho down with his negativity. Now, though, they’d adopted a routine.

“Yeah, if- if you’re okay with that.”

Minho nods, and Thomas moves.

Legs shaky, he makes the small journey across their room, climbing onto Minho’s rickety bed. He presses himself to his friend's side, shuddering as his warm body heat spreads across him.

“Talk to me, Thomas,” Minho murmurs, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders. Thomas rests his head on Minho’s arm, eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t do it, Min,” he begins, voice shaking. “It’s not fair.”

Minho lets the silence follow, knowing it takes Thomas a while to collect his thoughts.

“He’s supposed to be _here_. They keep talking about how this is an amazing place. Like we’re supposed to be _happy._ How can… How can I be happy when he’s not here?” He feels tears prick at his eyes.

“He’d want you to be happy,” Minho chimes, voice soft.

“You don’t know that,” Thomas spits, suddenly angry. He releases a short breath. “Sorry, that was… That was uncalled for.”

Minho rubs his back. “It’s okay. Get it out.”

Thomas sniffles. “I didn’t tell him,” he mumbles. He feels his heart burn. “I didn’t tell him how much he meant to me. He didn’t know, Minho.”

“What didn’t he know?” Minho sounds a little confused. Thomas understands that. He’d never revealed what the real problem was, not to Minho, not to anyone.

Thomas pulls back, looking at Minho directly in the face. He receives a tender smile, urging him on.

“I loved him.” Thomas releases a heavy breath. “I loved him like I’d never loved anyone before. Yeah, he was my best friend, but it was _more_ than that.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Or, at least, it was more than that to me.”

Minho looks shocked, but not surprised. “He loved you too,” he says, voice completely serious. “Used to ramble about you back in the Glade, always talked about how much you meant to him.”

Thomas feels the tears come on. Reaching forward, he grasps at the front of Minho’s shirt. “It’s not fair!” He exclaims, coughing back a lump in his throat. “I don’t understand _why_. _Why_ was it him? He- He didn't deserve that."

He pauses, the images from his dream flooding back. Newt’s body, limp, lifeless. A vacant expression spread across his messy face. He was barely Newt, at that point, but Thomas would recognise him anywhere, even when he was scarred and battered. With his jaw slack and eyes frozen open, it was truly a nightmarish vision.

“Newt fought ‘til the last moment, Thomas,” Minho mumbles. He brings Thomas closer, wrapping his arms around the broad boy’s shoulders. Thomas finds his head buried in his chest, his tears soaking the front of Minho’s flimsy sleeping shirt.

“Doesn’t make it right,” Thomas mutters. “I just… I don’t think I can do it anymore. I can’t go out there and pretend that I’m okay. I can’t do the stupid fake smiles and the meaningless small talk. None of them understands. They can try but they’ll never get it. Not really.”

Minho rocks him, holding him tightly so he doesn’t fall apart. “It’s okay,” he consoles. “Let it out.”

Thomas cries, his eyes burning as his throat aches. The pain in his chest is indescribable. It scorches his insides, bringing nausea to his entire body as it feels like his heart is being ripped out. He doesn't understand how it's possible to have pain manifest in a way so real, when, really, nothing should be hurting him at all.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he mumbles. “Minho, I can’t. I can’t do it, I-I can’t do it, I-”

Minho cuts him off with a small _shhh_ , his hands running through Thomas’ hair as he cradles his best friend. “Thomas,” he says, stroking the ends of his hair. “You _can_. He wouldn’t want you to give up like this.”

Thomas swallows, bringing a weak hand up to brush the tears from his cheeks. “I know,” he whispers. If there was anything he’d learnt about Newt, it was that he’d carried the steadfast qualities of determination and leadership. He wouldn’t want Thomas to crumble. Not now, especially when things had finally taken a turn for the better.

“Let’s lay down, okay?” It wasn’t so much a question, more a statement. Minho carefully helps Thomas under his blanket, neither of them caring when the wooden bedframe wheezes and creaks. Thomas curls up to his chest, continuing to cry softly into his front.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, shame falling over him. “You don’t need this. I-I ruined your night and now your shirt is soggy and I’m a mess and, Minho, I’m so sorry.”

Minho just shakes his head, squeezing Thomas tightly. “Don’t apologise. We’re a team now, Thomas. You do it for me, I do it for you. I’ll always be here to support you.”

Thomas swallows into the darkness. He was scared to fall asleep, but with the icy cold gone from his chest and his body surrounded by a loving care, he could feel himself begin to slip under.

“Thank you.”

He closes his eyes. Thomas is glad that Minho keeps him close, imprisoned in his arms. He hates feeling alone, but for the first time in a while, he finally finds himself free of the emptiness inside his chest.

“‘S okay. Get some sleep, okay?”

Thomas hums in agreement. With a final shuddering breath, he finds himself slipping into slumber, praying with every shred of his being that he’d be able to sleep without Newt haunting his dreams.


End file.
